


a little rage of starlight

by victoriousscarf



Category: Stargate - All Media Types, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefly Fusion, Alternate Universe - Firefly Setting, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Multi, The Ancients are actually the Worst, and they're still around, tags to be updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21815437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: “Ah, so you’re the one who named the ship Atlantis, of all things,” he said and for a second John didn’t hear him because he was watching the way his mouth tilted.“What?” he managed when his brain caught up and the man made a gesture with one hand over his head.“The ship. You named it Atlantis. Let me guess, you fought in the war?”
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 14
Kudos: 33





	a little rage of starlight

John blamed Lorne for this entirely.

Oh, sure, he had been the one that morning to stop Lorne on the way off the ship and say, “We need to pick up some passengers.”

“And by some you mean exactly how many?” Lorne asked, as Ronon checked his gun behind him.

John paused to calculate their current cargo (or distinct lack thereof) and how many quarters were currently empty. “Three,” he said. “Maybe. I don’t really care. We just need the money.”

“So one if they pay really well,” Lorne had said with half a smile and John shrugged.

“One if they pay really well would be great, sure, but who out here pays that well?”

Lorne had laughed, had waved. “Hey good luck out there today!” he called as John and Ronon left.

Except they had had terrible luck, and John was in what could only be called a mood by the time they got back, having sold what cargo they had dearly and for far too little pay. Jobs were getting harder to find, even as far out as they were, and the drifters and grifters were squeezing in tighter and tighter all the time.

He’s forgotten all about it, until he turned a corner and found an unknown man standing in the hallway, arms crossed and an unhappy look on his face.

“Excuse me?” John asked.

“For what?” the man asked, turning too quickly as if he hadn’t heard John approaching at all.

“Who are you?” John asked, tilting his head to one side and considering the man, whose clothes were too fine cut for this side of the verse. The sad thing was, he was wearing muted colors in simple designs as if that would pass for a second as anything except the clothes of someone with money.

“A passenger,” the man snapped and John found his brows going way up. “Who are you?”

“Captain John Sheppard,” John said just to see the way the man titled his head, considering him.

“Ah, so you’re the one who named the ship _Atlantis_ , of all things,” he said and for a second John didn’t hear him because he was watching the way his mouth tilted.

“What?” he managed when his brain caught up and the man made a gesture with one hand over his head.

“The ship. You named it Atlantis. Let me guess, you fought in the war?”

John felt his shoulders tense. He was going to have to have several long words with Lorne, because he currently didn’t give a shit how much this man was paying. “Yes,” he grit out. “What gave me away?”

The lopsided mouth twitched up again. “I’m just trying to figure out the sort of man who would name his ship for a battle he lost is all.”

John stared and stared more before he scowled. “You’re assuming.”

“Oh please,” the man said. “You didn’t fight for the Ancients, which means you were on the other side, and that means you lost Atlantis.”

“It was supposed to be a place of safety,” John said, angry, because most days he managed not to even think about the war. Most days he could lock it up in a little box and tuck it away in his chest. It was the only way to keep moving and people didn’t often bring it up without cause.

“Well, that didn’t really work out, did it?” the man asked and John felt his face break out into an incredulous smile.

“You remember who’s ship you just paid for passage on, don’t you?” he asked, because otherwise he was going to strangle their paying passenger before they were even out of the spaceport.

The man’s mouth compressed unhappily, and his shoulders tightened, and John thought that it was too obvious he was from the Core, from the simple fact he was used to being able to say what he thought. “Yes, yes. Well,” and he looked sideways. “Lovely ship you have here.”

“Thank you,” John said through gritted teeth.

“You’re welcome,” the man said, except he looked angry too and John may be used to pissing people off, but this was fast, even for him.

“Enjoy settling in,” he started and paused, because he hadn’t even caught the man’s name before they started trying to find each other’s wounds.

The man’s eyes flickered back over to him at his hesitation. “Doctor Rodney McKay,” he said, a brusque introduction.

John smiled at him, except it didn’t reach his eyes at all. “Doctor,” he said in parting and tried not to let his eyes catch on his expressive mouth again as he turned to leave.

He found Lorne in the cargo bay, working on storing the passenger’s cargo. “Please tell me he is paying a _lot_ ,” John said.

“So much,” Lorne said, rising to attention like he always did when John entered a room. It didn’t matter how long it had been since the war, or how often John found himself grinding his teeth over it. He walked into the room, and Lorne’s spine went straight.

“How much?” John asked.

“More than the entire cargo you just sold off,” Lorne said and John blinked once.

“That’s a lot,” Ronon said, walking over from closing the cargo door.

“What is a wealthy doctor even doing out here?” John asked. “It’s suspicious, right?”

“He doesn’t look like a doctor,” Lorne said. “His hands for one.”

John hadn’t noticed his hands, too busy watching his mouth. “You gave him the ground rules, right?” he asked.

“Them,” Lorne said and John’s brows went way up. “I know you said we only needed one if they paid really well, but I’d already picked up another one before he came up.” Lorne shoved the large crate he was standing in front of, trying to slot it more securely against the side of the ship.

“That his?” John asked.

“The doctor? Yeah,” Lorne said, Ronon giving him a hand and John started securing the straps in place.

“Any idea what it is?” John asked.

“Not even one,” Lorne said. “But he also started dropping more bars in my hand when he mentioned how much luggage he had.”

“Think it has anything to do with why he’s running?” Ronon asked.

“He said it was family issues,” Lorne said. “He’s got family out this way. Some trouble with them or something and he said it was time to go home.”

“Right,” Ronon said. “Okay, I haven’t met him yet and I already don’t believe a Core doctor would have family out here. Not family he actually gave a shit about, anyway.”

“What about the other passenger?” John asked.

“He seems fairly nondescript,” Lorne shrugged. “He paid the usual going rate for passage, doesn’t have much luggage, and looks pretty salt of the Earth, if you know what I mean.”

“Good, because one Doctor McKay is probably all I’ll be able to handle,” John said, glancing at the large metal crate again with a frown. “You said he was paying extra for this, right?”

“So much,” Lorne said happily.

“Good,” John said, as the door on the side of the cargo ramp opened, sunlight spilling in with Laura Cadman. “How was shopping?”

“We got what we needed,” she said, a crate under one arm. “I _think_. I’m not an engineer though, so I only hope to the holy powers that be I got the right part.”

“If only we could afford an engineer,” John said and Ronon rolled his eyes, because they all knew the _Atlantis_ was held together with tape and a prayer. No one out this far in space could afford an engineer unless they were a Traveler, and those engineers were notable for being usually totally batshit insane. But they were also the best at keeping their ships in the air.

“Come on,” Lorne said, dusting his knees off. “I’ll help you try and install it.”

“What a gentleman,” she said dryly. She paused next to John. “The food was pretty slim pickings this time.”

“When isn’t it?” John sighed.

She shrugged. “We’ll need to resupply sooner is the thing. I hope you have another job lined up.”

“So do I,” John sighed.

-0-

“I have a job for you,” Carson Beckett said, when John went to check on him.

“Do you?” John asked idly. “How much am I going to hate it?”

“A whole lot,” Carson replied. He had a clipboard in one hand, like he was actually trying to do inventory on their always meager medical supplies. “It’s a medical supply run.”

“Yeah, I’m already suspicious,” John said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter. He ignored the way Carson stared at him, because the counter was technically the only space were Carson could operate in the event he needed to.

“These supplies need a fast ship to get them from where they are to where they’re going,” Carson said. “Not a lot of people are willing to risk Wraith space, not even for the money.”

“For good fucking reason,” John said. “So why are we going to risk it.”

“Because we’re desperate?” Carson said with arched brows.

“True,” John allowed. “And while I don’t like it, I don’t hate it yet. So what’s the other catch.”

Carson paused, shifted, looked at his clipboard again. “It’s for the Genii,” Carson said and John stared at him before he started swearing.

“Not the Genii,” he said.

“I know,” Carson started.

“ _Fuck_ the Genii,” John said.

“They pay well for medicine,” Carson said. “You know they pay well for medicine. They pay the most money for medicine of anything except—”

“Except weapons, preferably radioactive?” John said.

“It will make us a lot,” Carson pointed out and John narrowed his eyes at him.

“How far out of our way would it take us?” he asked. “Did you hear, we took on passengers?”

“Oh,” Carson said. “Because that ever goes well for us.”

“It went fine with Elizabeth,” John said after a beat.

“Yes, but she technically never left us,” Carson said. “So I guess it depends on how you define ‘fine’ in this situation.”

“Well, she never left, but she still pays us a monthly rent,” John said. “So, how far will this take us out?”

“Not far,” Carson said. “I already checked with Elizabeth, and she said there isn’t any outstanding orders, so she doesn’t have any course adjustments requests right now.”

John sighed, because usually when there was something he didn’t want to do, Elizabeth had the right excuse to get him out of it. She was the only one on the ship with something like a job, even if it was basically just traveling judge with notarizing privileges. On good days the Core government would have a specific request for her to settle some out of the way dispute.

Most days John had no idea why a Core recognized diplomat with a list of accomplishments almost as long as John was tall would head out for the edges of space and book long term passage on the first ship she saw, but he was thankful for it. Some months Elizabeth’s money was the only thing that kept them fed.

“So medical supplies for the Genii,” he said finally.

“Aye,” Carson said, holding his clipboard to his chest.

“Think we can get a cut of any of them at all for the service?” John asked, glancing around the bare shelves and Carson shrugged.

“I doubt it. But the money will be good.”

“Fine,” John said. “I’ll let the other’s know at dinner.”

“Don’t worry, John,” Carson said. “I’m sure you won’t get shot this time.”

“I really wouldn’t count on that with the Genii,” John said, heading out the door.

Once outside he took a second, pressing a hand against the side of his ship, and trying not to think about the way McKay had looked at him and asked him why he named his ship after a battle he’d lost.

Atlantis had been the last battle of the war, because the ragged humans had been promised safety there and had been betrayed by the Ancients, who were tried of anyone questioning their will. They had wanted a swift end to the rebellion, and had gotten it.

When Ronon had joined the crew, he’d asked John if he named the ship Atlantis because he couldn’t let the past go, or if he wanted his ship to be the safe harbor Atlantis had supposed to be.

John had passed him another bottle of engine room vodka, because it had been a good day then, and they had gotten paid, and he didn’t want to answer.

Mostly because some days he didn’t know himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Look ever since I watched "The Game" and Lorne panned the camera over to the flag with McKay's face on it I've wanted him to say "We need to go to the shitty planet where I'm the hero" and from that urge this whole mess was born. I am obviously playing super loose and fast with the Firefly mythology/series.


End file.
